


More

by someonestolemyshoes



Series: Theirs [2]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Dry Humping, Fluff, Frottage, KageHina - Freeform, Kissing, M/M, have i mentioned lately that i hate myself, so much kissing jesus
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-29
Updated: 2015-10-29
Packaged: 2018-04-28 19:48:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,779
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5103569
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/someonestolemyshoes/pseuds/someonestolemyshoes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hinata isn’t sure when friendship with Kageyama escalated quite this far, but he doesn’t really mind it. In fact, he’d maybe go so far as to say he enjoys it; he likes holding hands on the walk home, and he likes that Kageyama buys him meat buns after practice and he likes that they get to sit just a little closer together when they’re watching movies or playing video games or even just doing homework. </p><p>He likes a lot of things, but his most favorite part is the kissing.</p>
            </blockquote>





	More

**Author's Note:**

> They're third years and they haven't really worked out where the boundaries are yet. Give 'em time. 
> 
> Also this is horrible and I am the worst person but I mean, I didn't kill anyone this time so that's always a bonus right?

Kageyama is always a little unsure at first, like he doesn’t know if this is really okay and truthfully Hinata doesn’t know either, but it makes his stomach feel hot and hollow and it’s _good_ , so good that it doesn’t really matter if it’s alright or not. But there’s something cute, almost, about the way Kageyama’s cheeks flush, the way his fingers tease the hair at the nape of Hinata’s neck like he doesn’t know if he’s allowed to really touch it. There’s something about the way Kageyama chases his lips when he pulls away, follows him with an open mouth, the tip of his tongue resting against his bottom lip and his breath billowing in small, uneven pants against Hinata’s face that makes his chest _ache._  

They kiss in a lot of different ways, too. Small pecks in the dark at the turn off where Hinata takes the mountain path home, or heated, heavy make-outs in the store room when they’re cleaning up after practice, the kind of kisses that leave his lips bruised and his hair mussed and his body humming. And then there are the slow, languid kisses on Kageyama’s bed, always Kageyama’s, because Hinata’s house is far too lively for the kind of privacy these kisses need. 

The problem is, as much as Hinata loves kissing (and he does, he really _really_ does), there’s a tiny little part of him that thinks, maybe, it’d be nice to do something different. Something more. 

The urge comes to him at the weirdest of times. Sometimes it’s when Kageyama is setting a toss, when his arms stretch up and his back arcs in and the hem of his shirt slips high enough for Hinata to trace the lines of his hips and the smooth, tan skin over his stomach. Sometimes it’s when they’re changing after practice, when Kageyama’s buttoning up his shirt, neck craned to one side to continue a conversation Hinata can’t bring himself to care about with the waistband of Kageyama’s trousers sitting so _low_ on his hips. And sometimes it’s in the morning, when Kageyama’s blinking blearily at the alarm clock and his hair is messy and the jumper he’s sleeping in is curled up around his ribs, the bottom of his back bared to the cool morning air because Hinata always, always steals the covers. 

It’s one day when they’re on Kageyama’s bed, Hinata straddled over his hips and their mouths meshed together, that it hits him again.  

Hinata has always wondered just how Kageyama knows so much about kissing. He wonders how Kageyama knows to drag his tongue over the roof of his mouth, to lick at the backs of his teeth and to nip at his lips, to bite just hard enough for it to sting, to tug and pull and sooth with slow, wet strokes and small sucks that make Hinata’s hips jump. And he’s thinking it now, with one of Kageyama’s hands buried in his hair and the other teasing feather light touches over the strip of skin above the waistband of his boxers. 

He licks the seam of Kageyama’s mouth once more and then slides himself back, perching close to Kageyama’s knees. Kageyama grunts out something low and menacing, maybe, and his lips are cherry red, wet and swollen from Hinata sucking them, and his eyes are hooded and his hair is sticking up at odd angles where Hinata’s been carding his fingers through it and it makes something deep in his gut tighten.

“How do you know how to kiss so well?” He asks, pouting, and it’s a struggle to keep his eyes on Kageyama’s.

“It’s not hard, dumbass,” he says, and Hinata pinches the skin at his shoulder hard enough for Kageyama’s thighs to jerk and it bumps him up, sharp and fast and he flies forward, knocks his forehead to Kageyama’s with an audible crack.

“What was that for, _Bakayama_!”

Kageyama gives him one long, hard glare, lips cocked at the corner in something like a snarl and it shouldn’t do anything for him, really, because this is Kageyama’s _I’m-going-to-kill-Hinata_ face and he should be running for his life, but he isn’t and it _does_. It sets heat pooling in his stomach and he can feel the blood flowing up, up, up his chest and neck and flaring out over his cheeks and Kageyama is still glaring, but his face is falling softer and softer and his eyes blow wide and Hinata licks his lips and Kageyama _gulps._  

“What?” Hinata asks, pulling on the collar of his shirt because _wow_ it’s hot in Kageyama’s room. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

Kageyama blinks, then, heavy and rapid, like he hadn’t realised he was staring and he looks away, a little more colour settling high on his cheeks. The hand at Hinata’s back splays tentatively over the skin beneath his shirt and pulls him, just a little, bending his knees up until Hinata slides down his thighs and settles over his hips and then he kisses him again.

His lips are warm and wet and soft and he sighs out a breath through his nose, tilts his head so their brows rest together and it’s such a tender gesture, and Hinata thinks he’d maybe revel in it if he weren’t so desperate for something _more._  

He pulls back a little, enough so that Kageyama can see him and he pants, wets his lips and lets his mouth hang open, just close enough for Kageyama to feel the warm huff of his breath against his own lips.

Kageyama has had nearly three years of practice at reading him now and he’s got it down to an _art_ and Hinata is thankful, so thankful of that in this moment because one minute they’re still, Hinata’s mouth open and inviting and Kageyama’s nose nudging up along his and the next Kageyama is lunging, tunnelling the fingers of one hand right up into Hinata’s hair and tugging hard enough for it to _hurt_ , and the other reaches up under his shirt and twists, fists at the fabric and pulls until the neckline digs a little way into Hinata’s skin and it’s _good_. So good it makes his head spin.

It’s not intentional, at first, the way he grinds his hips down into Kageyama’s, but he’s hard and Kageyama is _right there_ and the friction makes his breath catch in his lungs and if his little, choked gasp isn’t bad enough, he follows it up with a moan that shudders its way up and out and right into Kageyama’s mouth.  

Kageyama stills, loosens his grip on Hinata’s shirt and pulls his head back sharp enough to crack his skull off of the wall and Hinata bows his head, croons his embarrassment into the skin of Kageyama’s neck.

“Oi, dumbass, what the hell are you doing?” There’s no real bite to Kageyama’s words and his tone is a little breathy, air fanning out over Hinata’s ear and sending a shiver down his spine and he can’t _help it_ , he does it again; presses his hips down once, twice, and Kageyama grunts low in his throat. “ _Hinata_.” He hisses it through his teeth and Hinata can’t tell if it means he wants him to stop or not.

There’s something about the smell of Kageyama’s skin, clean and fresh from his shower and warm, too, that makes Hinata’s eyes roll back in his head and he opens his mouth against it, lets his teeth rest on the muscle where Kageyama’s neck meets his shoulder and he darts his tongue out, licks a spot right beneath his lips and Kageyama grunts again, tightens his grip on Hinata’s shirt and pulls at his hair.

Hinata cups his lips and sucks the skin up between his teeth until Kageyama is gasping, and then Kageyama pulls him away, hard, fingers gripping into his hair and moving him back and away and he pushes at his hips, too, until Hinata is resting on his knees again, boxers pitifully tented and cheeks scorching.

“Hinata,” Kageyama says, and Hinata feels suddenly like he’s done something very, very wrong. He drops his eyes, kneads his fingers into Kageyama’s bedding and watches the fabric twist around his knuckles. “Hey, idiot.”

Kageyama traps Hinata’s chin between his finger and thumb and turns his face up sharply, and still Hinata refuses to meet his eyes, instead fixing his gaze on the red welt decorating Kageyama’s shoulder and god _he_ did that, he _did that_ oh god, oh _god_.

“Dumbass Hinata, look at me.”

Meeting Kageyama’s gaze isn’t as scary as he’d thought it’d be. It’s…surprising, really, because Kageyama isn’t looking mad or murderous or constipated or any of the looks Hinata is used to. He looks _curious_.

“What are you doing?”

Hinata flounders, mouth gaping open and closed because he hadn’t expected to be asked, and suddenly the thought of voicing all the things he’s been wanting is terrifying. And so he lashes out, slaps at Kageyama’s shoulder because what a _stupid_ question.

“Idiot!” He slaps again and Kageyama looks taken a back, for a moment, and then his brows dip and his lips curl and he grabs madly for Hinata’s shifting hands.

“Stop it! Stop,” he says, grabs first one wrist and then the other, pins them both in his lap and Hinata thinks he must notice the tent in his pants that hasn’t let up. “Just stop.”

“I just…” Hinata huffs, flustered and frustrated, and he leans forward and knocks his forehead back to Kageyama’s, hard and heavy enough to make his ears ring. “I want more.”

“More what?”

Hinata is quiet, slides his head to one side until his temple rests against Kageyama’s so he doesn’t have to look at him anymore.

“I like the kissing,” he says, hefts in a breath and Kageyama lets out a gruff snort of acknowledgement, “I like kissing a _lot_.”

“Yeah,” Kageyama says, voice deceptively quiet and breathy and Hinata rolls his temple against Kageyama’s until his nose is right in Kageyama’s hair.

“But sometimes I see you and I get really restless, like when you’re setting or changing or sleeping, or when you chew on the end of your pen when you’re pretending to concentrate on your homework or when you smile when you think nobody’s looking at you and it makes my heart go like, _gwah!_ and _fwah!_ and my stomach feels all hot and I wanna do _more_.”

“More than kissing,” Kageyama says and _god_ he sounds good, voice low and husky and it melts right into Hinata’s bones, makes him sink down until his face is hidden against Kageyama’s neck again and he can feel wetness on his cheek, his own saliva from sucking on Kageyama’s shoulder earlier and it should be disgusting, it _is_ disgusting, but it makes his gut quiver all the same.

Hinata nods and Kageyama hums something he doesn’t hear, but he feels it vibrate through his throat and onto his own lips and he wants to do it again, bite and suck and mark and _more_.

He shifts, one move at a time, inches himself back over Kageyama’s thighs until they’re hip to hip and he settles down again, presses his weight until he’s grinding right into Kageyama again and _oh_ he’s hard, Kageyama is hard too and he shifts beneath Hinata, lifts himself up and rolls his hips until they’re in just the right place.

Kageyama lets go of Hinata’s shirt and presses his palm flat against his lower back, pushes him down until he’s flush against Kageyama and then he ruts himself up once, sharp and hard and Hinata keens, pulls himself back and smashes his mouth right onto Kageyama’s.

The kiss is sloppy – sloppier than anything they’ve shared before – with saliva stringing from the corner of his mouth and smearing over his chin and Kageyama is no better, and their teeth gnash together, jamming lips and tongues and Hinata is swiftly learning that the pain feels good, almost. Each sting and throb sends something sharp and hot straight to his groin and he slams himself a little harder into Kageyama’s hips, hard enough to rip a groan from Kageyama’s throat.

He whimpers when Kageyama slides his hand from his spine to his ass, blunt nails dragging over the skin and tugging, just a little, at the waistband of his boxers, enough so the elastic snaps back against his skin and then he’s cupping Hinata’s ass, palm spread right around the flesh, thumb pressing into the back of his hip. He squeezes, pushes and pulls at Hinata until he starts moving on his own; rolling his hips down and back and the head of his cock catches the underside of Kageyama’s through their boxers and Kageyama chokes out something high and strangled and his head tips back and for a moment Hinata stills.

Kageyama looks _good_. He’s red-faced, red-lipped and panting, mouth open and eyes closed and his lips are shiny with spit, tongue darting out to coat them as he breathes, heaving and shaky, and he slides his spare hand down Hinata’s spine to rest at his hips and drags him slow with both hands and Hinata catches him in the same place again and Kageyama’s breath jumps.

“Again,” Kageyama rasps, and Hinata leans close enough to lick at Kageyama mouth and does as he says, rocks forward and Kageyama hums low in his throat, tightens his grip on Hinata’s hip, so hard Hinata knows there will be bruises in the morning. Hinata licks at him again, stripes his tongue over Kageyama’s lips and he lets his mouth fall open, presses his tongue to his lip the way Hinata likes it and Hinata laves his tongue over Kageyama’s and into his mouth.

Hinata sets himself into a rhythm, rolls slow and steady and _hard_ against Kageyama until Kageyama is writhing, hips jumping and straining and there are quiet, breathy noises falling continuously out of his mouth, hissed and muffled against Hinata’s lips and tongue.

It feels good, better than he’d imagined and it’s so much he’s shaking, and everything feels tight and tense, something low in his gut so close to snapping that he forces himself still and when he does Kageyama growls and nips at his lip.

“Why’d you stop?” He’s talking through his teeth, still clamped around Hinata’s bottom lip and Hinata closes his eyes and wills his body to calm down.

“’M close,” he says, and repeats himself again when Kageyama lets him go. “I don’t wanna finish before you.”

Hinata opens his eyes when Kageyama doesn’t answer him. There’s a blush _burning_ across Kageyama’s cheeks, hot and red and flaming right over the bridge of his nose and up to his ears and Hinata grins, leans in even closer to look and Kageyama palms his face away.

“Stop saying stuff like that, stupid,” Kageyama grumbles. “It’s embarrassing.”

“You’re embarrassing.”

“You’re an idiot.”

Kageyama says it, but he’s sliding his nose along Hinata’s and his voice is soft, quiet and gentle and maybe a little teasing, too, and the whole thing makes Hinata’s body melt. He hums, nods, and he’s about to start up again when the air around him shifts and the room spins and he’s on his back, Kageyama braced above him on his elbows.

He doesn’t have a chance to say anything because they’re kissing, again, and Kageyama’s palm slides down his rib cage, past his waist and over his hips and thighs, and when his fingers stroke the skin against the back of Hinata’s knee he slides his leg up the length of Kageyama’s, knee locking at his hip.

It’s even better than before, with Kageyama in control, and Hinata doesn’t need his hands to steady himself now so he’s free to roam and he does so with pleasure – rucks up the hem on Kageyama’s shirt and glides his hands up his spine, splays his fingers out over his rib cage, drags his nails up over the muscles at his stomach and feels them bunch up with each grind of Kageyama’s hips.

It’s a lot, maybe a little too much, touching and feeling and kissing and he’s hot, tired and aching and _desperate_ but Kageyama is still going. He’s breathing a little heavy and his hair is sweat-stuck to his forehead, but he’s still _going_ , and Hinata isn’t sure how much longer he can hold out before the band winding in his gut snaps.

“Kag’yama,” he breathes, pants out. “Ah…gonna-mmh.”

He wraps his arms over Kageyama’s neck and heaves his weight up, crushes their chests together and curls his leg over Kageyama’s hip to pin their hips closer.

He comes with a mewl muffled in Kageyama’s mouth, hips jerking and head spinning, eyes screwed shut and body quaking. Kageyama is barely holding his rhythm, rutting in harsh, desperate jolts and panting soft, low groans into Hinata’s mouth and then he’s coming, too, thighs shaking where they press against the back of Hinata’s. He feels drained, sapped of energy and Kageyama drops his weight down on top of him, face pressing into his shoulder and his breath panting out over the skin.

“You’re heavy,” Hinata says and Kageyama grunts, his sweaty cheek rubbing against Hinata’s jawline and for a moment Hinata thinks he isn’t going to move, and a little part of him thinks that this isn’t so bad; his warmth is nice, and the cage of his arms is comfortable and his chest is firm where it rises and falls against his own, but breathing is a little difficult and Hinata gives a couple of half-hearted shoves at Kageyama’s shoulder until he groans, loud and irate, and rolls to one side.

“Gross,” Hinata says, wriggles his hips against the mattress. He’s sticky and cooling in his boxers, still half-hard and Kageyama is fairing no better. He’s got his nose all wrinkled and his brows are furrowed and he’s staring down at his crotch like it’s done something to offend him. It’s a funny thought, and Hinata lets a giggle slip past his lips.

“What’s funny, dumbass?”

It’s not _that_ funny, really, but Hinata can’t stop laughing. He nips his own lip between his teeth but the giggles still come, bubbling and never-ending, and Kageyama braces a hand over Hinata’s mouth, shifts his weight to launch on top of him but he misjudges the distance and rolls right the way over, pulls on Hinata’s shirt so he comes too and the two almost topple over the end of the bed – it’s small, too small for two people – but Kageyama steadies them both.

Hinata licks out at Kageyama’s palm and Kageyama balks, yanks his hand away and glares. Hinata juts his tongue out and god he can’t stop _smiling_ , can’t cool the heat in his cheeks and the breath in his lungs is coming hard and fast and he feels sated, sleepy and satisfied yet _giddy_ , too, and light as a feather.

“You’re disgusting.” Kageyama smooths his hands over Hinata’s waist and rests them on his hips and his face goes all red across the cheeks again as he says, “was that good?”

Hinata bobs his head faster than he’s ever nodded before and pushes one quick, hard kiss to Kageyama’s mouth.

“Mhm,” he hums, slides his eyes closed when Kageyama’s fingers find the bare skin beneath the hem of his shirt.

“Good.” Kageyama’s still tracing patterns on his skin and his voice is coming low in his throat, and Hinata cracks an eye open to see Kageyama looking at him like _that_ , again; eyes blown wide, face a little slack, mouth wet and open and Hinata smiles.

“Why d’you keep looking at me like that?” He says, and Kageyama’s face twitches, eyes darting somewhere way over Hinata’s shoulder. He shrugs.

“You look…nice.” 

“Nice?” 

“Nice.” 

It makes his chest feel warm and fuzzy and his head spins. 

“Compliments,” he muses, “I must’ve done something _awesome_.”

Kageyama cards his fingers into Hinata’s hair and shoves his head, hard, and it makes Hinata laugh again and when he peaks up through his fringe Kageyama is smiling too, just a little lilt at the corner of his mouth, and his eyes are lidded and soft and his hair is still a little mussed and Hinata wants to kiss him a _lot_ right now.

Instead he sits up, feels the gross, horrible mess in his boxers rub between his skin and the fabric and whines his disgust as loud as he can.

“Idiot,” Kageyama says, pinching the skin of his thigh, “you can borrow a spare pair. But I’m cleaning up first.”

“No fair,” Hinata grumbles as Kageyama shoves him by the shoulder until he’s sprawled back on the mattress. “I’m the guest.”

“Don’t care.”

Hinata’s on his feet before he can think, cringing at the stickiness in his pants as he leaps over Kageyama and sprints his way to the door before Kageyama has a chance to move.

He’s almost to the bathroom when Kageyama catches him, slams him straight into the bathroom door and pins him in place and when Hinata twists in his grip there faces are close, close enough for Hinata to see the fine dusting of freckles branching out over Kageyama’s cheeks, to trace the lines around his eyes and the way the skin wrinkles between his brows as he frowns. It’s almost _unfair_ , he thinks, just how attractive Kageyama really is and it isn’t until Kageyama flicks at his forehead that Hinata realises he’s staring, this time.  

“Why’d you keep looking at me like that?” Kageyama asks and Hinata grins, leans the distance between them to catch Kageyama’s bottom lip between his own and runs his tongue along the length of it. Kageyama shudders, wisps out something low and too breathy for Hinata to catch and his weight falls a little more securely against the door.

“You look _nice_ ,” Hinata says, nudges his nose up along Kageyama’s and fumbles behind him until his fingers close around the door handle. He twists and they tumble, back-back-back until Hinata’s spine catches the rim of the sink and Kageyama steadies him with two hands braced at his waist.

“We could clean up together,” Hinata says, tries his best to widen his eyes and pout his lip like he’s seen the models do in magazines, tries to replicate a look that Kageyama might find _sexy_ and for a moment he thinks he’s done it because Kageyama bites at his lip, tightens his fingers into Hinata’s shirt and he’s leaning in closer, so close Hinata can feel breath fanning out over his lips and then-

“Get _out_ , dumbass.”

**Author's Note:**

> T here you go enjoy don't look at me 
> 
> (Thank you for reading! And for any comments/kudos/bookmarks etc you're all wonderful thank you thank you)


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